The Taste of Sunshine

The morning beckons with birdsong.

The birds always know, before I do,

just when the sun will rise.

They call in darkest light before dawn

the twittering an urgent antiphon,

coaxing our star to peek over the horizon.

*

And she does.

Everyday, without fail, she greets the world

with an iridescent smile,

casting ebullient rays and sizzling enigma,

like smouldering embers,

inviting and dangerous all at once.

A new day awaits,

she whispers without words

and burns brighter to make me believe it.

*

On days I am brave enough to greet her,

she embellishes my fragile body

with flecks of gold,

painting life on my skin,

so real I can feel the marks of time

etched on my bones.

I inhale the morning and taste the day anew.

The birds know and so do I,

we will always make it through.